Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

Crash!

Shatter!

Crunch!

Splinter!

The royal chamber of Princess Ila, heir to the Kingdom's throne, was a maelstrom of destruction.

Crystal goblets, etched with the sigil of the Kingdom, exploded against the walls, their shards raining down like a meteor shower, catching the pulsing glow of bioluminescent chandeliers.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of scorched electronics as Ila's fists smashed through holographic displays, their screens fracturing into spiderwebs of light and static.

A velvet-lined chair, gilded with gold filigree, toppled with a thud as she kicked it across the room, its legs snapping like brittle bones.

She seized a ceremonial dagger from a display, its blade glinting, and slashed through silk drapes, tearing them to ribbons that fluttered to the scarlet carpet, now a graveyard of debris—shattered porcelain, twisted metal, and the pulverized remains of a marble bust of her father, the King, its face cleaved in two.

"Aster, you fucking snake!" Ila screamed, her voice a guttural roar that shook the reinforced walls of her room in the Palace.

Her black hair, once a cascade of perfection, was a wild tangle, clinging to her sweat-soaked face, her teal eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to ignite the air.

She hurled a crystal decanter at a viewport, the impact sending a tremor through the room, the stars outside blurring as if recoiling from her wrath.

"Syn! You were mine, you bastard! Mine!" Her voice cracked, raw with rage and desperation, each syllable a dagger aimed at the void.

Her immortality, a gift and a curse, was unraveling her.

Her consciousness, tethered to a central brain via a neural network, linked her to the other cloned bodies she used.

But a small—a tiny flaw in the sync—meant a delay of five to eight minutes in memory transfer.

If a body died, those final moments were lost forever, erased like stars swallowed by a black hole.

That is why she couldn't remember how Syn escaped from the room she was hiding him in.

The space metro incident haunted her, replayed in grainy security footage: Syn, her Syn, slipping from her grasp, rescued by a white-haired shapeshifter and those damned pirates.

Worse, Aster—her exiled sister, her only true rival—had unmasked herself in the footage, her smirk taunting as she shot Ila's clone square in the forehead and took Syn along with her.

The recording cut off there after the metro exploded, a void of darkness, leaving Ila grasping at fragments.

"Why?" she snarled, seizing a silver candelabrum and smashing it against a console, sparks flying as the screen flickered and died.

"Why him? Why Syn?" Her boots crunched over glass as she paced, her navy commander's uniform torn at the shoulder, blood from a cut on her knuckles smearing the fabric.

She didn't feel the pain—only the burning need to destroy, to reclaim what was hers.

Her mind spiraled, questions clawing at her sanity.

His warmth, his scent, the way his calloused hands felt against her skin—it consumed her.

She'd spent the past two days wrapped in his embrace, their bodies tangled in the scenery biome's artificial meadows and then down on the throne, her lips tracing his neck, his pulse quickening under her touch.

She'd planned it all—a family, a future, an eternity with him.

She saw it so clearly: Syn, smiling as they sat on a checkered blanket under simulated cherry blossoms, their children—two, maybe three, with his dark hair and her teal eyes—giggling as they chased bioengineered butterflies.

They'd take long drives in her private cruiser, weaving through asteroid fields, the stars their backdrop as they laughed, her hand resting on his thigh.

She imagined cooking with him in the Kingdom's galley, his arms around her waist as they stirred a pot of spiced stew, stealing kisses between tasks.

Family days in the recreation biome, playing zero-gravity tag, their laughter echoing in the vast dome.

She'd envisioned lazy mornings in their royal bedroom, Syn's arms pulling her close, their children piling onto the bed, a chaotic bundle of warmth and love.

A perfect family, a dynasty bound by her will, her love, her obsession.

But now, that vision was crumbling.

Aster had stolen him, aided by pirates and a shapeshifter masquerading as Mia, a maid found dead years ago in the scenery biome, her body a meatless ruin.

Why would they risk everything—ships, lives, resources—for Syn? "He's not just a soldier,?" Ila muttered, her voice low, dangerous, as she smashed a fist into a wall panel, the metal denting under her knuckles.

"He's more. He has to be." The realization fueled her rage, her love twisting into something darker, sharper.

She loved Syn with a ferocity that bordered on madness, a need to possess him entirely—his body, his mind,

his soul. She hated him, too, for slipping away, for letting Aster and her scum tear him from her grasp.

"You're mine, Syn," she whispered, her voice a venomous caress, her teal eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "No one else gets you. Not Aster. Not those pirates. No one."

She resumed her rampage, grabbing a holographic star map and ripping it from its mount, the projection flickering out like a dying star.

"Aster!" she screamed, her voice a banshee's wail, the name a curse that could shatter worlds.

"You'll burn for this!" Aster, the only sibling who'd ever defeated her in combat, the one whose skill with a wooden blade had once left Ila bloodied and humiliated in the training pits.

The one she feared, the one she loathed with every fiber of her being.

Aster had taken the throne's favor, and now she'd taken Syn.

Ila's heart twisted, her love for Syn and her hatred for Aster fusing into a toxic storm.

She'd kissed Syn, claimed him, planned to bear his children, to bind him to her forever.

The thought of Aster's hands on him, of her smug face as she stole him away, made Ila's blood boil.

"I'll carve your heart out, Aster!" she roared, her voice echoing like a war cry, loud enough to make the guards outside flinch.

Her obsession with Syn deepened, a twisted tapestry of love and control. She'd planned to make him immortal, like her, using the Kingdom's labs to clone his body, sync his mind to a central brain.

Sooner or later, he was bound to forget the Backdrop, the pirates, his old life.

She'd break his mind, rebuild it with her as his everything—his goddess, his queen, his wife, his soulmate, his only reason to exist.

Even if it left him scarred, a shell of himself, it didn't matter.

As long as he loved her, obeyed her, never said no, she'd be satisfied. She'd make him hers in every way, body and soul, until he forgot how to want anything else.

"You'll worship me, Syn," she murmured, a manic smile curling her lips. "You'll beg for me, and I'll give you eternity."

She'd already mobilized her forces.

The Kingdom's fleet—dreadnoughts, cruisers, scout ships—scoured the solar system, sweeping asteroid belts, trade routes, and pirate havens.

Spies in every major space station, were on high alert, bribed or threatened to report any sign of the pirates' ship. "Find Syn," she'd commanded, her voice cold as the void. "Bring him to me, alive." She'd hunt him down, no matter where he hid.

He was hers, marked by her kisses, her touch, her claim, her blood.

She'd break him, reshape him, ensure he'd never run again.

Even if it meant shattering his psyche, she'd make him faithful, make him love her as fiercely as she loves him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice—her own, yet calmer, colder.

"Ila," it said.

Another Ila, stood at the doorway, her black hair pristine, teal eyes steady.

A clone, synced to the central brain, holding a glowing tablet.

"The phone on body #33 is missing," the clone said, stepping forward, her boots silent on the debris-strewn floor.

Ila's eyes snapped to her double, rage flaring anew.

"Missing?" she hissed, striding over, glass crunching under her boots. "Track it. Now."

The clone shook her head, her expression mirroring Ila's frustration. "It's out of range. Signal's dead."

Ila's jaw clenched, her mind racing.

The phone—carried by body #33 in the metro—held data, logs, maybe...?.

If Syn had it, if the pirates had it… "Draw the path," she ordered, voice sharp as a blade. "Show me where it went before it dropped."

The clone nodded, fingers dancing over the tablet.

A hologram flickered to life, a glowing map tracing the phone's signal.

It arced from the metro, through the scenery biome, past the manufacturing biome, then out into deep space, toward a cluster of coordinates and then the movement changed again going near Jupiter.

Ila's eyes widened, her breath catching as she zoomed out, the map revealing a trajectory.

The realization hit like a plasma blast.

"They're heading to the ISGA," she whispered, teal eyes blazing with fury and triumph. T

he Interstellar Station Governance Alliance, orbiting near Jupiter, was their destination.

They had evidence—Syn must have caught something, he could have used by dead body's fingerprint to open and record the shapeshifters—and they were running to the ISGA to dethrone her father, to ruin her.

"They think they can end me," Ila snarled, her twisted smile returning, her voice a low growl.

"Not today." She turned to the clone, her orders crisp, lethal. "Get my fleet ready. Full speed to the ISGA. Alert every ship on their way. We intercept them before they reach the station. Syn's mine, and I'll burn their ship to ash to prove it."

The clone nodded, relaying commands through the tablet, the hologram winking out.

Ila stood alone again, the wreckage of her room a mirror of her fractured mind.

She'd have Syn back, break him, remake him.

Aster, the pirates, that shapeshifter—they'd all pay. The Kingdom was hers, and so was he. Forever.